


Looks Red, Tastes Blue

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton’s farm, Courtroom Drama, F/M, Gratuitous Description of Arraignments/Hearings, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Let Clint Barton Retire, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Press and Tabloids, Spoilers, The Raft Prison (Marvel), Worried Michelle Jones, Worried Peter Parker, lets pretend i know how the law works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-07-10 09:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It doesn’t matter who the heroes are, all they care about is who is to blame.To them, that person is one Peter Parker.(AKA after FFH a bunch of shit goes down, basically one thing after another. Peter can’t catch a break.)





	1. Universal Truth

**Author's Note:**

> hello all! i’m going to try and put trigger warnings before each chapter so let me know if i need to add any.  
> still getting my footing for writing in this fandom so i’m sorry if anything is inaccurate or OOC!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS (for this chapter): gun violence, discussion of death.

Peter doesn’t go home, after the video is broadcasted. 

He sits atop the tallest building he can find, hiding out of sight from cameras and wandering eyes. 

His phone buzzes incessantly with messages from Happy, May, MJ- everyone. He ignores them all and watches the clouds, and eventually the stars. 

Eventually, he does go. He goes as fast as he can, and sneaks in through his bedroom window to be met with May screaming at him, eyes filled with tears, the room filled with cries of “ I thought you were dead .” Peter hugs her, still as numb as the hours beforehand, and she returns the gesture. 

Happy stays with them, and they lay low for a while. Pepper works tirelessly to try and clear Peter’s name, but the media may as well be gobbling it up and spitting it out at this point. Nothing she says seems to matter. They don’t want to hear what she has to say, or what Peter has to say.

The fear is that if one hears enough lies, they won’t be able to recognize the truth at all. How does one keep from abandoning the truth altogether? 

It doesn’t matter who the heroes are, all they care about is who is to blame.

To them, that person is one Peter Parker. 

He tries to keep up contact with MJ, but everything seems like white noise at this point. 

_“Lock him up!”_

_“Kill him!”_

_“I’m worried about you, Peter.”_

They might as well be saying the same thing. Peter can barely differentiate fact from fiction. He’s still wondering if this is another one of those hellish illusions Beck concocted for him. If he’s stuck in a nightmare produced by drones and projectors, one that seems all too real. 

What exactly is “truth?” What defines what is considered to be “true” and “untrue?” Surely the general population doesn’t view the world the same way. Everyone has their own truth- so what is deemed to be universally true? 

Peter doesn’t know. He can’t be sure of anything anymore. 

Just when he thinks he’s hit rock bottom, the assassination attempt happens. 

He’s just trying to get from the front door of the apartment building to the car Happy has parked outside. Fifteen feet. Fifteen feet of exposure, fifteen feet of vulnerability. 

He’s about four feet from the car when he senses it coming. He’s surrounded by people, so he can’t exactly dodge it or it will go into someone else. Instead, he shoves May as far away from himself as possible and takes all four bullets in various places. 

There’s screaming. May is screaming, some of the people around him are screaming (out of anger, fear, or delight, Peter can’t be sure). Four feet away, four bullets. Fifteen feet of vulnerability. 

It’s in this moment that Peter realizes what that universal truth really is. The only thing that finds both the oppressor and the oppressed, free of discrimination. 

The only universal truth is death. 


	2. In-Between

When Peter wakes up, he’s confused. In pain, yes, but also confused. 

His eyes scan the room and everything comes flooding back. 

The video. 

White noise. 

Fifteen. 

Four. 

_Four_ . 

“Pete?”

He looks to the source of the voice and is met with May’s tired eyes- more tired than he’s ever seen, more worn than when her husband was murdered. 

“Yeah,” he croaks. 

She hands him a plastic cup of water, and he shakily brings it to his lips. 

“How’s the pain,” May asks. 

He tells her it’s minimal, which is a lie, but she doesn’t need anything else to worry about. Happy comes in, and so does Pepper, whom Peter hasn’t seen in person since the funeral. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” Pepper promises. “Until we do, we need to find somewhere safe for you.”

Peter sighs. “Where?”

“As soon as you’re well enough, you and your aunt are going to a safe house,” she says. “I’ve talked to Clint Barton, and he’s agreed to have you guys stay there, even though he’s retired. No one will look for you there.”

He asks to be left alone after that. Peter picks up his phone and sees how many calls he’s missed. 

72 from Ned. 

49 from MJ. 

37 from Flash?

Just as he’s about to call MJ, his phone vibrates again and without checking the Caller ID, he answers. 

“Hello,” he says lamely. 

On the other end, there’s only silence. He pulls the phone back from his ear and checks who it is- Flash. 

“What do you want, Flash?” His voice cracks and he coughs, chest aching and breath wheezing. 

“So it’s true then,” Flash says. 

“What’re you referring to?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” There’s a pause. “There’s a video going around of you getting shot, you know,” he says. “The _Daily Bugle_ showed it. Someone was watching it during third period and Michelle freaked the fuck out.“

Peter doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent. Flash fills in the silence with a surprising inquiry. 

“Are you okay?”

He’s taken aback at first- Flash Thompson, actually being concerned about Peter Parker’s well-being? He’d never expect it in a million years if it wasn’t for the other boy’s borderline crush on Spider-man. 

“That’s a loaded question,” Peter says with a small chuckle. “I’ll live. This time. Now if you’ll excuse me I should probably call MJ. Ned, too.”

“Alright,” Flash says. “For the record, I don’t think you’d try and kill us with those drones.”

Peter lets out a breath. “Thanks.”

MJ answers on the first ring, and Peter has never heard her so distraught. She cries, and yells at him for scaring her, and Peter finally feels something for the first time in a while- fear. It’s not the best emotion, but it’s the first distinguishable feeling he’s had since the broadcast. 

“I’m so sorry, MJ,” he says, because what else can he say? “I’m just... I’m so sorry.”

The fear builds in Peter’s chest and something akin to sadness erupts from his mouth in the form of a sob. 

“It’s not your fault,” MJ says softly. A pause. “When can I see you?”

Peter takes in a stuttering breath. The truth is, he has no idea. He doesn’t know if he even wants to see her, only for them to end up being kept so far apart. 

“I don’t know,” he settles on. “I’m actually going away for a little while.”

“Where? For how long?”

“I can’t tell you where, and I don’t know how long it will be. It’s just...” He holds back a sob. “It’s just safer for everyone if I’m not here for a little while.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” she says. After a moment, she sighs. “But if you’re going to be safer somewhere else, then... Just call me? Every day, so I know you’re okay.”

“Alright.”

When they hang up, Peter goes right back to the numb. The in-between, as Peter has dubbed it. The disorientation of his mind being blank. It’s terrifying and calming all at the same time, being so numb. Lost time, hours that feel like seconds, seconds that feel like hours. Staring up at a white ceiling, somewhere between awake and asleep. 

Yet he stays in the in-between. He’d rather be there than in the reality of just having been shot four times. 

So he stays. 

-

The plane ride to Missouri is short. Peter and May don’t speak, but Peter can tell that his aunt is crying silent tears, even though she thinks she’s hiding it well. 

Peter spends the time looking online. He’s trending on Twitter, he’s all over Instagram and Facebook, and Reddit is having a blast dissecting his life. 

_Fox, CNN,_ the _Daily Bugle_ , the _Times_ , and almost every other media outlet one can think of is publishing article after article about him. The Daily Bugle even interviewed his classmates. Statements from people whose names he doesn’t recognize that claim to know him. A statement from Brad Davis sticks out to him,  “ _I knew something was off about that guy._ ” Peter chuckles bitterly at it. 

He also takes the time to call Ned. His friend is freaking out, nearly inconsolable when he answers. He explains the same thing he did to MJ, and promises him that he’ll be okay. That he  _is_ okay . 

When they touch down, it’s in a small clearing in the woods. When Peter and May exit the auto-piloted plane, they see a small farm in the distance. Peter grabs their suitcases, May taking smaller items, and they start towards it. 

As they get closer, Peter can make out the figure of a man sitting on the porch: Hawkeye.

“I don’t believe we’ve actually met,” he says, coming forward to greet them. “I’m Clint.”

“Peter,” the boy says, shaking Clint’s hand. “This is my aunt, May.”

Clint shakes May’s hand and takes the bags from her hands, leading them inside. 

“Now you’ll have to excuse the mess,” he says. “I’ve been working on some... home improvement projects.”

“What he means to say,” a woman interrupts. “Is that he decided to tear out the kitchen cabinets, and got distracted building a new dining room set before he could put in new ones.” The woman comes forward. “I’m Laura,” she says. “I’ll show you to your rooms. You’re in luck, Clint just finished adding on another guest room last week.”

“I’m retired,” Clint yells from behind them. “I’ve gotta keep my hands busy!”

May chuckles. “He reminds me of Peter’s father,” she says. “He was always busy with something.”

Once they’re both situated in their rooms, they go back into the living room where Clint is sat on the couch talking to two kids, a third sitting in his lap. The older boy looks to be almost Peter’s age, the girl a few years younger. The boy in Clint’s lap looks to be only four or so. All heads turn to them when they walk in, and Clint stands, placing the child next to the others. 

“This is Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel,” he says, hovering a hand over each of their heads respectively. “Nate, did you have something you wanted to ask Peter?”

“Are you really Spider-man?”

Peter smiles. “Y-Yeah, I am.”

Nathaniel’s eyes widen. “Can I see your webs?”

Peter looks to Laura, then Clint, who each nod. He rolls up his sleeves to expose his webshooters (still on his wrists out of paranoia after the attempt on his life), and kneels down next to the kids, explaining how he made them. 

Soon comes dinner, prepared by both Laura and May. The meal is surprisingly good, considering May had any part in creating it. 

“I think I learned a few tricks,” she says to Peter. “When we go home we might be able to eat more than just takeout.”

It seems like the day goes so fast, because before Peter knows it, the kids are off to bed and he’s sat in his room, laying on the bed and listening to the adults talk. 

“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” May is saying. “It was either here or Wakanda, and something about leaving the country makes me feel like a fugitive.”

Clint chuckles. “You’re not a fugitive, May. Trust me. You might have to answer some questions at some point, but if I can get pardoned, so can Peter.”

The spiderling remembers now what he’d heard about Clint Barton since the Battle of Earth. How he’d become an assassin, a ruthless killer, and was then pardoned after having a hand in saving the world. It was a huge debate for a while, but blew over rather quickly, since everyone was so focused on their loved ones returning and the death of Iron Man. 

“He shouldn’t have to be pardoned,” May says. “He didn’t do those things. He’s good. That man was manipulative and he continues to manipulate people even after he’s dead.”

“May,” Laura says gently. “We know that. We know Peter didn’t do anything wrong, but if it comes down to him pleading guilty and being pardoned, maybe it’s not such a bad deal.”

He stopped listening after that. It was a big deal for him to plead guilty, for him to be known as a killer. If he wanted to help the people of Queens, they needed to be able to trust him. 

Peter’s phone rang loudly, cutting off his worrying, and he looked at MJ’s contact, smiling. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey, dork,” she said. “How was the flight?”

“It was okay. How’s school?”

She sighs loudly. “Everyone is being so annoying. Asking me and Ned if you went crazy, asking Betty and Flash what happened in Europe... Brad is going off every chance he gets about how you were naked at some point. Everyone has their own version of the story somehow.”

“Sum it up for me,” he says, wincing. 

“Flash is your best friend, knows you didn’t do anything wrong, Brad walked in on you and a European prostitute, you stole Tony Stark’s drones- oh, and my favorite one is that Mysterio isn’t even real, that everything on the news was doctored footage. Not many people believe that one, though.”

Peter scoffs. “That last one isn’t too far off.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Peter’s eyes start to water. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I’m going to fix this, you know,” he says. “They can put me in front of a jury if they want to. I’m going to make sure they know I’m innocent.”

“I know you will,” MJ says fondly. “I’ve got to go.”

Peter deflates. “Alright. I love you.”

“I love you too... and Peter?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t let them turn you into something you’re not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed!!!


	3. Going, Going, Gone

The days pass monotonously. The kids go to school, Laura and May bake dozens of desserts until May is able to finally make something on her own. Peter helps Clint put new cabinets in and build a table and chairs. He has trouble hammering nails without splitting the wood, so his job is sanding and polishing, mostly. He and MJ talk every day, and Peter aches more and more to be with her as time goes on. 

It’s on a Saturday when Peter finds Lila outside, bow in hand, shooting repeatedly at a target. She hits bullseye after bullseye, Clint sitting at a picnic table not too far away, watching proudly. 

“You’re good at that,” Peter says. 

She turns around quickly, startled, but smiles anyway. “Thanks,” she says. “Do you want to try?”

Peter nods and she hands him the bow. He holds it awkwardly for a second before attempting to mimic what he saw her doing before. He draws it back, and releases the arrow, only for it to shoot quickly towards the stump of the tree. He hears a loud cackle from behind him and sees Clint smiling from his seat. Peter shoots him a half hearted glare and turns his focus back to the target. 

“Lift your elbow more,” Lila says. “And your shoulder should be...” She reaches over and maneuvers his shoulder, forcing it to relax. “Like that. Now try.”

Peter aims, then shoots, and the arrow goes just along the edge of the inner circle of the target. 

“ _Ha_!” Peter laughs and looks back at Clint. “Next you’re going to try swinging from trees,” he says. 

“No way, I’m not a monkey,” Clint quips. 

Peter splutters for a minute before Laura leans out from the doorway and announces that dinner is ready. It’s roast beef and vegetables, and Peter eats two platefuls of food. He’s about to burst when he sits on his bed and calls MJ. 

As the phone rings, he’s prepared to tell her about archery, and about dinner, but she doesn’t pick up. Peter checks the time, noting that it’s around the time they had scheduled their daily calls, and tries again. There’s still no answer. He sends her a text, ‘ _hey, call me when you get the chance_ ,’ and waits. 

Waits, and waits, and waits. 

All night, Peter waits for a call. He gets nothing. Not a call, or a text message, or a snapchat, or anything. 

He calls Ned. 

“Peter! I was wondering when I’d hear from you ne-“

“This is important, Ned,” he says. “Have you seen MJ?”

“No,” he replies. “Actually, she hasn’t been answering my texts all day.”

Peter feels short of breath. “You need to go to her house.”

Ned starts. “Go to her- Peter, is that really necessary?”

“Please, Ned,” he begs. “Please, I really need my Guy in the Chair right now.”

“Okay,” Ned says, seeming to finally realize how serious Peter is. “Okay, I’ll call you when I get there.”

They hang up and Peter ventures out of his room to find May. She’s sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, laughing with Clint and Laura. He must be pale, or look as terrified as he feels, because they stop talking when he walks in. 

“Honey, is something wrong?” May sets her glass down. 

“MJ won’t answer my calls,” he says breathlessly. “She-She said she’d answer no matter what. She hasn’t answered Ned all day, either.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sure it’s fine. She probably lost her phone,” May says. 

Peter sits down next to her on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his palms. May puts an arm around him, rubbing his back. 

Time passes so _painfully_ slow . It’s hours before Ned calls him again, the sun having set and the kids already in bed. It’s quiet, making the buzz of his Peter Tingle even more profound than it would be otherwise. 

“Was she there,” Peter questions as soon as he answers the phone. 

“Peter...”

“What is it?” He can feel himself start to get lightheaded. “Just tell me.”

Ned sighs. “She’s gone missing.”

“What the hell do you mean she’s missing,” Peter demands, standing on shaky legs. 

“I got to her house, there were a bunch of police there... They said she hadn’t been missing too long, so they wouldn’t have taken the case if it wasn’t for the note.”

“Note? What note?”

“Peter, it’s...” Ned pauses. “It said ‘courtesy of the Vulture.’”

He lets out a panicked breath, dropping the phone on the ground. His legs give out from underneath him and he kneels, vision going spotty from the panic. He feels May engulf him in a hug and he  screams  into her shoulder. He screams in pain, in anger, in fear. He clutches her shirt as the screams dissolve into sobs. 

-

“Peter! Peter, you’re not leaving.” 

Clint is following Peter outside and across the lawn, May standing by the door. He’s already clad in his suit and is ready to find Toomes and-

“I was told to protect you, and letting you leave would be putting you in danger. Pete-  _Peter_ !”

He stops. Peter clenches his fists, eyes watering. “I can’t let her get hurt,” he says, voice wobbling. “I can’t- You don’t...” 

He turns around. Clint is standing a few feet away from him, looking at him with no anger in his expression. 

“Don’t tell me I don’t understand,” Clint says softly, walking forward. “I do. I lost everything to Thanos. You can’t do what I did, you can’t act without thinking. The only thing that will get her back is using your brain before jumping in.”

Clint is right in front of him now, a steady hand on his shoulder. Peter tries to take a deep breath, but a sob comes out instead. 

“I know,” Clint says, pulling him into his arms. 

“I miss Tony,” Peter cries. “I need him, he would know exactly what to do, _I need him_.”

Clint shushed him with whispers of “I know,” and “it’ll be okay.”

“I don’t know how to do this without him,” he weeps. “I need him here, _I need him_.”

“We’re going to figure this out,” Clint says. “We need to come up with a plan. Come inside and we can do that. I’ll get Happy on the phone.”

Peter sniffles as they walk back to the house. Once inside, Clint calls Happy while Peter strips himself of his suit and puts on some pajamas. Once situated on the couch with Clint, Laura, and May, and with Happy and Pepper on the phone, they make a plan. 

“I’ll go talk to Toomes,” Happy says. “I’ll figure out what he knows- which can’t be much. All communications into and out of the prison are monitored.”

“He’ll never talk to you,” Peter says. “His whole shtick was that he would never trust people with Damage Control or Stark Industries or the Avengers. He feels like they think he’s small, insignificant.” A pause. “If you can get me in there-“

“No,” Pepper says. “No way, that is not happening.”

“If I can sneak in there and talk to him, I can sneak back out and-“

“And what,” May pipes up. “Let him rat you out? Say you were there and get the police on your tail?”

“I think the kid has a point.”

All eyes turn to Clint. 

“I think we would be able to get him in and out of there undetected. That way if Toomes even tries to tattle on him, no one will believe him. There won’t be any evidence.”

“We need to get Peter back to New York then,” Happy says. “I’ll fly out there tomorrow morning.“

He and Pepper hang up and Peter is left staring at a blank screen. May has an arm around him and Clint places a hand on his shoulder again, leaning over to say something in his ear. 

“I’ll have your back,” he whispers. 

Before Peter can question him about it, he’s gone. 

-

When Peter ends up back in his room, he holds his phone in his hands, flipping it over and over again. For some reason he feels like MJ is going to call him, saying she dropped her phone in the toilet and had to wait to get a new one, and that she’s sorry for worrying him, and that she’s safe. He knows it’s a lie.

The worst part is that he knows MJ is strong. God, Michelle Jones might be one of the most stubborn, determined people he’s ever met- and that’s really saying something, since he knew Tony Stark. That only makes it worse, though. Peter was determined when he went up against Toomes, and it got him slammed into the sand over and over again, feeling his ribs crunch more and more with each impact. 

He could imagine MJ spitting in the man’s face, telling him to ‘fuck off, bird man.’ He knew she was a fighter, and that terrified him- the idea of her having to fight his battles. 

Peter was restless all night and into the morning. Happy was coming at eleven thirty, so Peter was up by seven running around the farm, climbing the silo, testing and recalibrating his webshooters over and over again. He ate breakfast with everyone and then packed a bag to take with him. 

Happy arrived as expected and Peter was just going to say goodbye to May when he heard Clint and Laura shouting at each other in the other room. 

“You’re retired, Clint! You said you were done with this!”

“You think I’m going to let a sixteen-year-old go into this on his own?”

“He’s not on his own, he has Happy-“

“Oh, yeah, of course, because Happy would be very prepared to take on individuals with alien weapons.”

“Clint-“

“I have to go, Laura.” Clint’s voice is softer now. “I’m not letting him do this alone. You know I can’t.”

Laura sighs. “I know. Just... Please promise me you’ll come back in one piece?”

“Of course.”

Clint comes down the hallway and into the living room, bow in hand. “You ready, Parker?”

“One second,” he says. 

Peter turns to May. “Keep in touch with me and Happy. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

She engulfs him in one of her warmest hugs. “I will. Please stay safe.” She says it almost like she’s begging. 

“I’ll try.”

It’s all he can promise, really. If being unsafe means he gets MJ back, then do be it. He’s ready to lay it all down. 

It’s not like he has much left to live for, anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was kind of sad. please let me know if there’s anything wrong with this chapter! i already have so many chapters written so expect an update within the next week!


	4. Toomes, Gargan, Davis

Within a couple of hours, Peter finds himself inside a van about a block away from the prison where Toomes is being held, along with Clint and Happy. 

He’s typing furiously on a computer, hacking into the prison’s security system. It’s easy, really. They’ll never even notice. 

“Once you hit this button,” Peter says to Happy. “It’ll put the last five minutes of security footage on a loop. I’d say we have twelve minutes before they notice.”

Happy hands him an earpiece. “Just tell me when. Shift change is in two minutes. You remember the route to get to his cell?”

Peter stands, ready to jump out of the vehicle. “Vent access on the southwest side of the roof, left, third right, go straight.”

“I’ll be on standby,” Clint says. “Let me know if you have any problems.”

The boy nods and jumps out of the van, swinging up to the roof. Guards are situated at their posts around the area, but Peter is quick and quiet enough to slip to the southwest side, locating the hatch easily. He opens it silently, twisting off the screws and replacing the grate back where it was once he‘s inside. 

“I’m in,” he whispers into his comm. 

“Let me know when to loop the tapes,” Happy says. 

Peter quietly crawls through the vent passages until he’s able to look through one and see Toomes sitting in his cell. 

“Loop it,” Peter says quietly. 

After a second, Happy responds. “You’re good. Guards are changing shifts.”

With that, Peter kicks the grate of the vent off the ceiling and to the ground with a loud clang. Toomes starts, standing quickly and putting his hands up defensively as Peter jumps down into the room. 

The man lowers his hands, almost looking disappointed when he sees Peter. 

“Pedro,” he says. “Hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself. To what do I owe this visit?”

The boy takes one long stride forward and grabs the man by his collar. 

“Where is she,” he demands. 

“What the- who?”

Peter shakes him roughly. “Don’t play dumb with me,” he growls, trying hard not to yell. “Where is my girlfriend?”

“How am I supposed to know,” Toomes asks. 

“Enough of your bullshit. You left a note, remember? Signed it, even.”

“I think I would remember if I did that.” Toomes shoves Peter off of him and Peter releases him, confused. “I didn’t do anything to your girlfriend.”

“Well then who did? Who would sign your name on a note given to her parents?”

Toomes is quiet for a minute. Peter is about to question him again when he finally speaks. 

“Mac Gargan,” the man says. 

Peter’s eyebrows pinch together. “What?”

“Mac Gargan,” Toomes repeats. “Asked me who you were a few years back. Said he had some people on the outside that wanted to get their hands on you.”

Peter thinks back to Homecoming and remembers Mac Gargan. The man from the ferry, the man with the scorpion tattoo, the man who he’d pushed off the boat. 

“Where is he,” Peter asks. 

“Not here. Moved him a couple years back.”

Happy’s voice sounds in his ear. “Peter, times almost up, you should get moving.”

“I was never here,” the boy says to Toomes.

The man hums in acknowledgment and sits back down on his bed as Peter jumps back into the vent, webbing the grate back in place from the inside. He scrambles through the vents until he‘s back on the roof and darting back towards the van, unseen once again. 

“Karen,” he says. “Pull up everything you have on Mac Gargan. Known associates, addresses in his name, communications he’s had outside prison, anything.”

He arrives back in the van and Happy speeds away. 

“What’d you find,” Clint asks. 

“A lead,” Peter says, grabbing the computer and pulling up Karen’s report. 

Mac Gargan. Known associates: Aaron Davis, Michael Terry, Anthony Henson. Communications with all three since imprisonment. No addresses listed. No family in the area. 

“Can we find Aaron Davis,” Peter asks his AI. 

“Tracking his phone,” Karen responds. 

She pulls up an address in Queens and Peter sighs. He turns to Clint. 

“I can’t be seen in Queens,” he says desperately. “I can’t just walk into some apartment building and ask him. Can’t swing there either, everyone will see me.”

“I think I have an idea,” Clint says. He looks to Happy. “Take us to the warehouse district in Manhattan.”

-

Peter clings to the ceiling in the abandoned warehouse, waiting for Clint and Happy to arrive. He wears dark clothes over his suit to help conceal the bold red that would otherwise give away his identity to anyone who happened to be passing by. 

When Clint and Happy do arrive, they bring in a man with a bag over his head and his hands bound. They situate him on a chair in the middle of the room and take the bag off. Just as the man is observing his surroundings, Peter jumps down from the ceiling, landing right in front of Aaron Davis, who jumps in surprise. 

“Nice to see you again,” Peter says. 

Davis calms a bit and chuckles. “You’ve gotten better at this.”

“Thank you,” Peter says. “Now, what do you know about Mac Gargan?”

Davis leans forward. “I know that he’s got people out here doing his bidding, and that he tried to get me in on it, too. I exchanged my silence for my family’s safety.”

“I can protect your family,” Peter says. “I just need you to help me find mine. Please.” Davis looks at the floor and Peter continues. “My girlfriend, he’s got my girlfriend somewhere.”

The man bites the inside of his cheek in thought, then sighs.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I have an idea,” Davis says. “Gargan‘s been renting an apartment in Brooklyn under the table. A couple of his buddies wanted me to meet him there a couple days ago. Didn’t ask why, didn’t go.“

“Untie his hands,” Peter says. Happy hesitates. “Untie his hands,” he repeats. 

Happy does so as Peter reaches in his jacket pocket and procures a piece of paper and pen. He hands it to Aaron. 

“Write down the address.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk i’m kind of proud of this chapter? also donald glover cameo yay


	5. Michelle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: minor violence?

Peter changes from his suit into street clothes, dark and camouflaged. He’d be far more likely to go by unnoticed as Peter Parker than as Spider-man. He abandons the mask and puts his hood up. 

Happy parks the van near the dilapidated apartment building and Peter and Clint walk inside, keeping their heads low. They ascend the stairs and arrive at apartment 219. The boy spares a glance at the archer. Clint nods and Peter slams his foot on the door, kicking it open.

The silence that greets him is chilling. The apartment is mostly empty, save for a couch and a desk. Peter and Clint walk in slowly and cautiously, and as they do they can hear struggling coming from down the hallway. Muffled yells come from behind a door and Peter almost loses his composure. Those indignant grunts can only mean one thing. 

MJ. 

Peter kicks the door open. Michelle Jones sits in front of him, tied to a chair and gagged, with blood running down her forehead from a wound hidden somewhere in her hair. Two men are standing by her, each with their guns pointed to her head. MJ looks at Peter with hope glimmering in her eyes. 

“We’ve been waiting for you, Spider-man,” one of them says. “I see you brought a friend.”

“Put the guns down,” Peter says. “And we can talk.”

“No thanks,” the other man says. 

In one fluid motion, Peter brings both arms up and webs up their guns, yanking them out of their reach. Clint steps forward and lands a punch on one of the men’s jaw, and Peter takes on the other. The two men are no match for a spider-kid and an ex assassin, and they’re out cold in no time. 

Once they’re taken care of, Peter runs over to MJ and takes the gag out of her mouth while Clint severs the ropes on her wrists. When she’s free, she grabs Peter and kisses him intently. 

“I knew you were coming,” she says when they pull apart, resting her forehead against Peter’s. 

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says softly, unable to contain the tears leaking from his eyes. He presses a kiss to a bruise on her jaw. “I came as fast as I could. Are you hurt?”

“I’m a little concussed,” she admits. “But even I’ve had worse.”

She and Peter both stand and the boy speaks with incredible resolve.

“You’re coming with me back to Clint’s,” he says. “We-We can talk to your parents about it. You’ll love it there, it’s so quiet and-“

“As much as I enjoy teen love,” Clint starts. “We should probably go.”

“Right.” Peter nods. “We’ll leave them to the police and-“

“Peter!”

The spiderling’s excitement is drowned out by MJ’s startled gasp. He looks to where she points at his chest and sees a red dot. A laser. 

The three of them look out the window, staring out at the now dark city, trying to find its source. All is quiet for a moment, tension filling the air. Their search is cut off abruptly by the door to the room bursting open. 

“Freeze! FBI!”

Peter’s stomach sinks. He looks to Clint, who winces and slowly puts his hands up. Peter follows suit, and elbows MJ and motions for her to do the same. For a moment all is calm. Then comes an order. 

“Tranq him.”

He doesn’t exactly feel the dart go in, but he hears it. His brain barely has the time to register the pinch before he’s met by three more, and his head quickly fills with fog. 

He spares a glance at MJ, who looks at him with fear in her eyes. 

Then he goes down. 

-

The first thing Peter can feel is the ache in his neck. He opens his eyes and sees a white ceiling above him. The boy attempts to bring his hands up to massage the crick out of his neck, but his hands are bound to armrests in the chair he’s sat in. Testing the binds, he can’t break them. 

“That’s vibranium.”

Peter looks forward, through the glass wall of the cell he’s in, and sees someone who looks vaguely familiar, though he can’t quite place him. 

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” the man says. He smiles. “I’m Thaddeus Ross, former Secretary of State and current chair holder of the Sokovia Accords committee, appointed by the United Nations.”

“What?” Peter gasps. “I thought the Accords didn’t affect minors.”

Ross paces. “The Accords were amended after Thanos. Now, they only apply to situations in which an enhanced individual poses a threat to the safety of citizens. Any enhanced individual, adult or child.”

“I didn’t do any of those things,” Peter says, resenting the desperate tone of his voice as he struggles against his bindings. “Beck lied, he lied about everything-“

“I’m sure he did,” Ross chuckles mockingly. “But that’s up to the Court to decide.”

Suddenly, breath eludes him. “The- The Court?”

“Your arraignment is in four months,” Ross says. “Until then, you’re stuck with me.”

_Four months._

“Mister Stark told me about you,” Peter growls. 

Ross takes a step forward and a door opens, allowing him inside Peter’s cell. He strides up to where the spiderling is sat and bends down to meet Peter’s eyes. 

“What did he tell you,” he asks calmly. 

“That you’re manipulative,” Peter spits. “And you’re a liar.”

The man swings an arm, backhanding Peter in the face. The boy grunts, but quickly turns back to look Ross in the eye. 

“Where are MJ and Clint?”

“Michelle Jones was returned to her family,” Ross explains, standing straight again. “The committee insisted that Barton be let off with ninety days house arrest, given all he’s done for the world.”

“Michelle isn’t safe in the city,” Peter says. “You have to get her to-“

He’s hit again, this time making no noise. 

“I don’t take orders from you,” the man growls. “Soon enough you’ll learn your place.”

He turns on his heel and leaves. Peter struggles more violently against the chains. 

“You have to make sure she’s safe!” He yells. “Get her out of the city! Hey! Ross!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all thought things already sucked? get ready


	6. In-Between (Reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence, abuse, just kinda fucking with his mind i guess, uhhh yeah
> 
> probably ooc/non realistic but this is just how things are

Days pass and Peter is left unfed. 

His enhanced metabolism begins to burn through his fat like a fire to paper. Once it’s done there, it starts burning through his muscle. He’s left in silence some days, but others he’s beaten until he can hardly see. Then he’s left again for his malnourished healing factor to fix him sluggishly. 

There’s a shock collar around his neck. Speak? Zap. Fight back? Zap. Touch the glass walls of his cell? Zap. Touch the collar? Zap. Someone gets bored? 

Zap. 

He has no concept of time. Peter tracks the days by how often he is given water, which seems like every two days. The lights in his cell stay on day in and day out, a blinding white that hurts his concussed brain. 

It’s after ten days that Peter stops resisting the beatings. He stops screaming curses at the people who restrain him and then kick him with steel toed boots relentlessly. He stops counting how many bones he can feel breaking from each impact. Stops counting how many shocks he endures. He stops paying attention. 

Peter drifts back into that place, that quiet place where pain doesn’t exist. The place in his head where Mister Stark is still alive, where Quentin Beck never existed, where he can have any meal he wants. 

The place he calls the in-between. 

In the in-between, nothing can hurt him. He can lay there for hours, motionless, pretending the pain doesn’t exist. He can watch movies with Uncle Ben, he can attempt to help Aunt May make dinner, he can even shoot arrows with Lila if he wants to. In the in-between, he is not Spider-man. He never went on that trip to Oscorp and he was never bitten. In the in-between, he is Peter Parker- boring, normal Peter Parker. 

They stop giving him water at some point. He’s forced to drink from the toilet- the only thing in the room besides himself. His clothes grow big, and one day the guards that toy with him take his clothes, leaving him naked and freezing on the cold floor. Ross isn’t happy about that, though, and he never sees those two guards again. 

After that he isn’t beaten for a while. He’s left alone in the white, in the silence, in the in-between. Peter doesn’t know if he’s hallucinating when he starts to hear the beeping. A faint sound that goes off every four seconds or so. 

_Four_ . Why is it always the number four? Four steps away, four bullets, four months,  _four_ . 

The beeping seems imaginary at first, but then Peter becomes sure that it’s real. That same tone, that same sound, every four seconds. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

It starts to feel like a hammer driving a nail into his skull. Every four seconds comes a new nail. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Peter screams. He tries to drown out the beeping and he screams his throat hoarse. It works, briefly, until his vocal cords give out and he’s rendered voiceless. Nothing can save him from the beeping now. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

He’s laying on the floor, shaking violently- whether from cold or from pain, Peter doesn’t know- when the cell door opens again. He doesn’t move, doesn’t roll over to see who it is. 

Instead he stays still, limp, as hands grab him under his arms and drag him from his cell. The people comment on how bad he smells as they drag him, the boy unable to get his footing on his weak legs. 

They eventually stop and pin him to the floor and undress him, but leave his collar on. Peter fights against it feebly, but once their done they throw him against the tile floor of a new place. The floor and walls of the room are blue tile, and Peter is thankful for the break from the white. He scrambles to sit up, curling himself in to try and cover himself. 

He’s not prepared for the blanket of cold water that drenches him when it does. Peter shouts in surprise and tries to get away, but the entire ceiling is raining down freezing water.

Peter is rinsed down for a long time, so long his fingers begin to turn blue. When the water is finally turned off he’s given a thin towel. He wraps it around himself and is shown to a different room, much to his confusion. 

The room is complete with a small cot, a toilet, and a sink. There is a suit hanging from a hook on clothes hangers, and on the sink are deodorant, a comb, a toothbrush, and toothpaste. There are what seems to be pajamas folded on the bed. The guards leave and lock the door behind them, leaving Peter staring at it in confusion until a voice comes over an intercom. 

“Your arraignment is tomorrow, Peter,” comes the voice of Thaddeus Ross. “Can you believe it? Four months already. Now get yourself cleaned up so you can look presentable.”

Peter approaches the mirror above the sink hesitantly. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor until he reaches the sink and braces his hands on it, holding up his unsteady form. After taking a deep breath (shallow, really, but as deep as he can with still healing ribs), Peter looks at his reflection. 

The sight takes his breath away. 

First he sees how his hipbones protrude from his body, and how his ribs are prominent. His stomach is sunken and his once toned muscles are gone. Bruises in various stages of healing litter his body, his arms, his torso, and probably his legs, if Peter had the courage to look. He can see one rib in particular that’s misshapen. Next he looks at how his collarbones threaten to cut through his skin. His elbows are knobby and his biceps are now slim. 

Then, Peter looks at his face. It doesn’t seem like his anymore. He’s always had a more prominent jawline, but now his cheeks are sunken, as are his eyes. His lip is split and he has dark purple rings around his eyes- though he knows that those are from exhaustion, not physical abuse. His hair is long now. May would have forced him to get a haircut weeks ago. 

Many things would have happened within the past few weeks if Peter wasn’t in prison. His birthday was at some point. He missed the anniversary of his parents’ death. He missed independence day.

He missed so much, and he’ll miss even more if he stays here. 

He’s already missed out on five years of his life, and now four more months has been added to the tally. Peter can’t keep up anymore. The in-between can only do so much to comfort him. He wants this to end. 

He needs this to end. 


	7. The Arraignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how court hearings/court in general works so keep that in mind. i read a lot of transcripts online though lol

The night passes slowly. Peter can’t tell why Ross is allowing him to have a bed tonight- whether it‘s just to mess with his head when he takes it away, or not. They even turn off the lights when Peter goes to sleep. 

He notices, though, that in the morning he somehow feels refreshed, despite getting fewer hours of sleep than most nights. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have a pillow, or blankets, or a mattress, even though all are thin and flimsy. 

Ross’ voice comes over the intercom once again. “You have an hour to get ready.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Peter slowly gets up and starts getting dressed. He combs his hair back and tries to make himself smell nice, but there’s nothing he can do about the dark circles under his eyes. Someone comes and takes off his collar, and when he looks in the mirror he can see a ring of burnt skin around his neck from the repeated shocks. 

Before too long, the cell door swings open with a clang. Peter jumps and bows his head, not looking at whoever just entered the room. He’s learned rather quickly that eye contact equaled pain. The footsteps stop a few feet away from him. 

“What the hell did they do to you?”

It doesn’t sound like pity when it’s said. It sounds like anger. 

It also sounds like Nick Fury. 

Peter slowly looks up and meets Fury’s eyes. He exhales, quick and sharp, and resists the urge to hug the man, to grab him and beg for him to make them let him out. Instead he just stands there, staring at his potential savior. 

“Come on, Parker,” Fury says, turning and motioning for Peter to follow. “I’ve got some people who are excited to see you.”

Peter follows the man down several hallways and Fury makes sure he stays close, keeping a protective hand on his back as they walk. It feels like he’s been trapped in the middle of an intricate maze, miles long. When they finally get to the front door, Fury opens it and Peter squints against the sunlight. For a moment he doesn’t even register his surroundings as he stares at the sky, feels the breeze of the cold September day. 

Director Fury is urging him forward to a van that waits on the road. Peter looks back and sees the sea, waves crashing around the Raft in all of its terrifying size, then goes towards the van. Just as they’re a few feet away, one of the back doors opens to reveal May, jumping out and running to him. MJ isn’t far behind, and Clint and Happy lean out to look at him. 

May’s arms wrap around him tight, and Peter returns the embrace with all of his strength, so much so that he’s afraid he might hurt her. She doesn’t say anything, only kissing the top of his head and crying, so he assumes he’s not squeezing too hard. 

She leans back, tears in her eyes, and lets out a sob, hands resting on his cheeks. 

“Baby, what did they do to you?”

“The accords committee will be hearing about this,” Fury says. “There’s no doubt in my mind that this isn’t what they consented to when they allowed Ross to oversee the Raft.” He starts towards the van. “Alright, get in.”

May turns away and MJ slowly walks forward. She’s tentative, as if he might break if she looks at him the wrong way. She looks afraid, more so than she had when he rescued her from her kidnappers. He closes the space between them and grabs both of her hands, looking into her big, deep brown orbs. 

“Your eyes are red,” he says, as if it isn’t obvious, and his voice cracks with disuse. She looks down and he brings a hand up to her face, now slender fingers brushing her hair away. “Don’t cry,” he pleads. 

MJ looks back up at him, studying his face before leaning forward, connecting their lips. The kiss is feather soft, probably the most gentle touch Peter has felt in four months. 

“Hey,” Fury’s voice comes from the van, causing them to break apart abruptly. “I said get in. We’ve got a hearing to prepare for.”

They climb in and Happy leans back to look at him from where he sits in the front seat. Clint just hugs him silently until Happy speaks. 

“You good? You need anything?” 

“Uh,” Peter stutters. “I-I guess I could go for a burger or something.”

He sees Happy smile, and hears him quietly chuckle. “Burger it is.”

-

After stopping at Burger King and getting more burgers than Peter can eat on his own, they arrive at the courthouse. There are swarms of people standing outside, yelling and being held back by security officers. Peter can see that some of them are holding signs. One sign says, ‘Spider-man? Or Spider-menace?’ After seeing that, Peter keeps his eyes trained on the ground as Happy leads them inside. 

They come to an office, one with hardwood floors and wooden trim around the edges. There are bookshelves lining the walls and tables and chairs in the middle of the room. What is of most interest to Peter, though, is the man waiting for them inside. He has red hair and is wearing a finely pressed suit. The man stands and holds a hand out to Peter, who looks at it skeptically for a moment before taking it. 

“I’m John,” the man says. “John O’hara. I’m head of your legal team. Peter, I one-hundred percent believe you are innocent. I’ve spoken with Miss Jones and Director Fury,” he says, gesturing to them respectively, “and I believe we can make a strong defense for you.”

Peter nods and whispers. “Thank you.”

John motions for them to sit down with him, and they all do. Fury mentions his suspicions about the Raft and O’hara asks Peter what happened while he was there. The boy is silent for a moment. 

“I-I- Yeah,” he stutters. “It was bad.”

“I’m going to need more than that, son,” the attorney says, and Peter glances at May and MJ, who nod and leave the room. 

Peter explains what he went through, the beatings, the starvation, the beeping, the brief confiscation of his clothes. When he’s done, his aunt and girlfriend are called back in to talk about his defense. 

“Some of your friends have agreed to testify as witnesses,” O’hara says. He begins reading off a paper. “Michelle Jones, Edward Leeds, Eugene Thompson-“

“Whoa,” Peter says. “Eugene Thompson? Seriously?”

“He does believe you’re innocent,” Happy points out. “We need everyone we can get on your side.”

Peter nods, and O’hara continues. 

“Betty Brant also agreed to testify in your favor, if need be. I’ll also be calling Mr. Hogan and Director Fury to the stand to give their piece as well, but we may not need this many witnesses to build a good enough case.” Peter nods once more, eyes trained on the table. “I don’t think the judge will agree to post bail. I do, however, plan on fighting for you to stay with SHIELD until your sentencing. I’ll need evidence that the staff at the Raft prison have been abusive,” he says, glancing at Fury. “I trust you can take care of that.”

It’s Clint who speaks. “I’ve got it covered.”

“For now,” O’hara says to Peter, “I need to take pictures of any remaining injuries you have from your stay at the prison. Is that alright?”

“Uh- I guess,” Peter says. 

After taking pictures of Peter’s bruised, prominent ribs, as well as his other injuries, O’hara’s watch beeps, and Peter flinches as the man reaches to turn it off. 

“It’s time to go,” the lawyer says. 

Peter takes a steadying breath as he stands and follows Happy down the hall and into the courtroom, where his Peter Tingle sends panic shooting down his spine. MJ must notice because she reaches down and grabs his hand and he looks over to see her give a reassuring nod before they part ways. He and his attorney sit down at a table in the front of the room, several feet away from a second table where people Peter has never met before are sat. 

The judge is a woman, who appears to be in her sixties. Her pale skin is wrinkled around her smile lines and her silver-blonde hair is cropped at her jaw. She’s intimidating, and she demands power with only one glance at Peter. 

“This is a matter of the People of the United States of America versus Peter Benjamin Parker, also known as the Queens, New York vigilante, Spider-man,” the judge begins. “I’m going to read your indictment, Mr. Parker,” she says, nodding to him. He nods back and she begins reading. 

“Count one, the murder of one Quinten Beck on foreign soil. Count two, conspiracy against the good of the people of London, Prague, and Venice, including terrorist actions resulting directly in the deaths of twenty-seven individuals.”

Peter feels the lump in his throat grow to twice it’s size. Twenty-seven people, all killed by Beck because Peter wasn’t smart enough to see through his lies when he should have. 

_What if somebody had died tonight? Different story, right? Because that’s on you._

Maybe he should be blamed. 

“Counts one and two are also in direct violation of the United Nations’ Sokovia Accords. Mr. O’hara, do you waiver the indictment?”

“Yes,” says Peter’s attorney. 

“Does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?”

“He does, Your Honor.”

“How does he plea?”

“Not guilty on all counts,” O’hara says. “Also, Your Honor, I would like to assert the defendant’s rights dictated by the Fifth and Sixth Amendments, as well as the Speedy Trial Act and request a trial to take place as soon as possible.”

“Alright. The plea of not guilty will be entered along with your requests. Ms. Knight,” she addresses the prosecution. “Do you waiver the indictment?”

“I do,” replies a woman with bright red lipstick and a navy blue pantsuit. 

“Perfect,” the judge says, looking over her glasses. “I propose a trial to take place one week from today on the twelfth of September at ten-thirty AM.”

“I believe that works,” Knight says. 

“I agree,” says O’hara. 

“Very well. Ms. Knight, does the United States wish to be heard in regards to the release of Mr. Parker pending his trial?”

“Your Honor,” Knight begins. “I believe that Peter Parker poses as a potential flight risk. The defendant is an enhanced vigilante who could potentially escape justice, taking lives in the process. The best place to keep him is the Raft prison, which was built specifically to contain dangerous mutants such as Peter Parker.”

“Counsel,” the judge looks to O’hara. “Do you have anything to contribute?”

“I do, in fact,” O’hara says. “I would like to point out that my client’s Sixth Amendment rights have not been honored thus far, as he has been forced to spend the last four months in prison pending this very hearing, before he’s even been proven guilty. In addition to that, it is my belief that the staff of the Raft prison are guilty of abuse of their inmates.”

“Oh?” The judge raises her eyebrows. “What evidence do you have to support this?”

“If I may use the screen to portray some pictures,” O’hara requests, and the judge nods, allowing him to plug his phone in and pull up pictures of Peter. “This picture,” he points to one in the corner. “Is of Peter four-and-a-half months ago. If you look at my client you can see the extreme amount of weight loss exhibited, which, at this extent, can only be the result of starvation.” 

He points to another picture, this one of the bruises on his ribs. “Mr. Parker has obviously experienced physical abuse at the hands of the prison staff. As he still has rights, and is only a minor, this should not be tolerated. I propose that Peter Parker be moved to SHIELD’s Washington DC facility, where they, too, are equipped to contain enhanced individuals such as Peter, pending his sentencing.”

The judge glances from the pictures on the screen to Peter, and back again, before speaking. 

“Very well,” she says. “I trust you’ll turn this evidence over to the United Nations’ Sokovia Accords Committee?” O’hara nods. The judge looks to Fury. “You better not try and pull anything, Director.” Fury nods at her and she turns her attention to Peter. “Mr. Parker, you will be held at SHIELD’s Washington DC facility until your sentencing. The court only permits you to leave for the limited purposes of meeting with your counsel or for medical needs. You are to return to court when your appearance is required. Your next scheduled appearance is Tuesday, September twelfth at ten-thirty AM. Your purposeful failure to appear in court when your appearance is required will be a separate offense for which you can face an additional period of incarceration, or a fine, of both. Do you understand?”

Peter stands shakily and chokes out his words through his closing throat. “I-I do, Your Honor.”

A deputy walks forward to him and stands in front of him. “Please raise your right hand.” Peter does. “Do you solemnly swear to follow the conditions of your release to SHIELD set forth by the court, so help you God?”

“I do,” Peter says, trying to make his voice as strong as possible. 

“You may be seated.”

The judge speaks again. “Very well. Is there any other matter that should be addressed at this time?”

“No, your honor,” says O’hara. 

“Knight?” The judge looks at the prosecution with eyebrows raised. 

Ms. Knight purses her lips in frustration. “Nothing on behalf of the United States, Your Honor.”

“Alright, then,” the judge says. “You may be excused.”

Peter barely hears the bang of the gavel signaling the end of the arraignment. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he feels Happy’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Come on, kid,” he says. 

He stands and follows Happy and the others outside. MJ holds his hand and kisses his cheek, and May runs a hand through his hair. They walk back to the van through the crowd of angry protestors and Peter lays his head on his girlfriend’s shoulder once they’re outside. 

Finally, he’s one step closer to going home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i almost didn’t post this today because i feel like we’re all in mourning with the recent news that spider-man is no longer part of the mcu. regardless of whether or not we’ll get a reconciliation of some sort for ffh, i want to make sure i finish this anyway.


	8. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLS NOTE: in this we’re pretending that they still have the projector piece that MJ found in europe ok ok so not exactly canon but it’s what’s happening here

When they arrive at SHIELD, Peter is expecting to be locked in a room, unable to leave until his trial. He expects that room to be not too unlike the one at the Raft, with white walls and a hard bed. 

Instead, the room he’s shown to might as well be a hotel room. The mattress is thick, and the blankets are soft, and the towels are fluffy, and he has windows. The only difference is that there’s an electric deadbolt on the door. 

“Have to keep them happy,” Fury says. “You have to stay in here, but there’s no limit to the amount of visitors you can have. There’s clean clothes and extra towels in the closet.” The man heads towards the door, but stops before he leaves. “Oh, and you have quite the group waiting to see you. I’ll send them up now.” He shuts the door before Peter can ask any questions. 

Honestly, Peter is exhausted. He’s so tired that his vision is blurry, and he grabs MJ’s hand and heads for the bed, falling onto it and pulling her down with him. He lays on his back and she rests her head on his chest. May sits by the desk in the corner of the room, smiling fondly. 

Mere minutes pass before there’s a knock on the door and it opens to reveal Happy standing outside. 

“Here’s your group of nerds,” the man says. 

He steps aside to reveal Ned, Flash, and Betty standing in the hall. Peter quickly stands, as does MJ, and approaches them. Ned steps into the room first, and Peter pulls him into a bone crushing hug. He hears his best friend quietly sobbing into the shoulder of his suit jacket and squeezes him even tighter. When they release each other, Peter turns his attention to Betty and Flash. 

“Thanks for agreeing to testify,” he says. “I just... I wish you guys hadn’t gotten caught up in all this.”

“You saved our lives,” Betty says. 

“Yeah,” Flash agrees. “It’s the least we could do.”

There’s another knock at the door and Clint pokes his head inside. “You getting settled in okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, and he’s about to say more but Ned cuts him off. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps. He looks back to Peter, then to Clint again. “Oh my-“

Clint raises his eyebrows. “This one always like this?”

Peter scoffs. “Pretty much. Clint, this is Ned, Betty, and Flash.”

Betty is smiling nervously and Flash’s jaw is dropped. Clint smiles and walks into the room, letting himself fall onto a chair. It’s then that Peter notes that he’s in full gear, bow perched on his back.

“What have you been up to,” Peter asks, sitting on the chair next to his. MJ, Flash, Ned, and Betty find themselves sitting on the bed, listening. 

“Got security footage from the Raft,” Clint replies. “It’s actually not that hard to get in and get out. ‘High security’ my ass. You’d think they’d make it more secure after the rogues escaped all those years ago.”

Peter chuckles lightly. “Have you given it to Fury?”

“He’s on a video conference with the Accords Committee now.”

“Thank goodness,” May says from the corner, looking up from her phone. “No offense sweetie, but you look terrible. You need a haircut.”

Ned chuckles. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were copying Flash.”

“Hey,” Flash snaps, pointing a finger. “My hair looks way better than that.”

MJ gasps, feigning shock. “Flash Thompson? Insulting Spider-man?”

“Shut up, Michelle,” Flash warns. 

“Yeah, I thought you were basically in love with Spider-man,” Betty says. 

Flash’s cries of “shut up! I’m not!” are drowned out by everyone’s fits of laughter. 

-

Once Peter’s friends go back to their hotel and May goes to her room to shower, Clint is the only one left in the room with Peter. The boy shuffles in his chair, staring at the archer who‘s picked up the magazine May had left and is now reading it. 

Peter clears his throat. “Clint?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I just wanted to make sure...” He played with the sleeve of his dress shirt. “Uh... Did you happen to watch the security footage?”

Clint puts down his magazine on the arm of his chair and looks at Peter, and the boy can already tell what he’s going to say. 

“You don’t have to feel ashamed,” Clint says softly.

Peter feels his eyes flood with tears. “I’m... I’m supposed to be Spider-man,” he whispers. “How am I supposed to help other people if I can’t even defend myself?”

At the end of the sentence, Peter’s voice breaks off into a sob. Clint stands from his chair and kneels in front of where Peter is sitting, grabbing his hands. 

“Peter, look at me.” He does. “You’re not weak because of what they did to you. You’re no less of a hero because of what happened. You did what you needed in order to survive. They would have killed you.”

The boy nods, still sniffling, and Clint reaches up to pull him into a hug. Peter clutches him tight, crying softly into his shoulder. 

The door opens and May comes through, carrying a tray of food. The smile she wears falters when she sees her nephew so distraught. She sets down the food and walks over to Peter, sitting on the arm of his chair and holding him so the side of his head rests against her chest and her hands comb through his hair. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of his head. 

Peter doesn’t want to cry. He wants to be strong. He wants to act like Spider-man- the brave Queens vigilante who can look down the barrel of a gun without flinching- not a scared seventeen year old kid. Regardless, he’s unable to stop the sobs that pour out of him. He’s finally safe, in May’s arms, away from prying eyes for the first time in months. Peter is entitled to break down. 

So he does. 

-

That week, John O’hara comes in every day to talk to him, along with Happy, May, and MJ. They work more on his defense and rehearse what he’s going to say in response to certain questions. 

“The best attorneys have a way of twisting your words around on you,” O’hara says. “We need to make sure they can’t.”

“How likely do you think it is that I’ll win,” Peter asks hesitantly, causing MJ to squeeze his hand just a little tighter. 

“Well,” O’hara begins. “Your Sixth and Eighth Amendment rights have already been violated, so we can really stress the fact that you’ve been discriminated against because you’re enhanced. You have several witnesses who are willing to testify that you didn’t cause the attacks. Miss Jones has given me a piece of evidence that helps confirm her testimony.”

“Evidence,” Peter repeats. 

“The piece of the projector that I found,” she explains. “It’ll help solidify what I’m saying when I tell them how we figured out what Beck was up to.”

Peter smiles. “Great!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” O’hara says. “They have video evidence that shows you controlling the drones and killing Beck. This would normally be a deal breaker.”

“Why are we even trying then,” Peter snaps, frustrated. “If they’re just going to send me to prison regardless, why bother?”

“I said it would normally be a deal breaker,” his attorney states. “The difference here is that some people still believe in you... Believe in Spider-man.”

Peter looks down at his hands. He’s been shot, beaten, starved, and humiliated since the video had been aired. He finds it hard to believe that any part of the public is on his side. Nonetheless, it’s nice to dream. 

The adults all leave eventually, leaving Peter and MJ laying on the bed, his girlfriend’s head resting on his chest while he plays with her hair. MJ looks up at him. 

“You know I love you no matter what, right?”

Peter hesitates, but nods. “I love you too.”

“No,” MJ says. “I’m serious. Whether you get arrested, or pardoned, or found innocent completely, I’ll never stop fighting for you.”

The boy sits up and moves so that MJ is laying flat on the bed and he’s leaning over her. He presses their lips together and when he leans back again, their noses barely touching, he speaks in a whisper. 

“I’ll fight for you, too. Until I can’t fight anymore.”

She grabs his collar and pulls him down, kissing him passionately. She chews on his lip and he grabs her waist under her shirt. Her skin is soft, and he runs his hands up her abdomen and back down to her hips. Her hands are situated on his cheek and in his hair, holding him in this position as if she’s afraid he’ll disappear if she lets go. 

The sound of a throat clearing breaks them apart. 

Peter jumps off of MJ and they look towards the door to see Happy standing in front of it, holding a tray of food. 

“H-Hey, Happy,” Peter stutters. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can tell,” the man replies, setting the food down and heading back towards the door. He turns around before exiting. “As you were.”

When the door closes, Peter and MJ don’t go back to what they were doing. Peter eats his dinner, sharing a few bites with his girlfriend until she has to go back to her hotel. 

When everyone has left, Peter is left victim to the silence. If it gets too quiet, he can start to hear the beeping again, every four seconds. He knows it’s just in his head, that the sound has been ingrained into his brain, but he still covers his ears, breath quickening. 

Peter scrambles over to his closet, yanking it open and pulling out his suit mask. He slips it over his head and Karen greets him. 

“Hey, Karen,” he says shakily. “Can you... Play some music or something?”

“Sure, which playlist would you like to listen to?”

“Uhh... How about ‘License to Chill’?”

“Playing ‘License to Chill’.”

Soft guitar strumming floods the mask and as the lyrics do as well, Peter is able to calm his breathing and tune out the imaginary beeping.

He falls asleep with the mask still on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost didn’t get to post today. we moved today so it’s been hectic. not having a great time. leave a comment to tell me what you think


	9. The Trial: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLS NOTE: i still have no idea how court works. i read like 3 transcripts for different types of crimes/felonies and stuff and i just projected that here. sorry if this is boring idk i’m trying rlly hard lol

“All rise.” 

Peter stands, hands sweaty and shaky. 

“Court is now in session. Judge Simpson presiding. Please be seated.”

“Good morning,” says the judge. “This is the matter of the People of the United States versus Peter Parker. Are both sides ready?”

O’hara and Knight both confirm and the jury is sworn in. Peter feels a lump in his throat begin to form as Ms. Knight gets ready to make her opening statement. She rises and turns to face the jury and the cameras televising the case for the whole country- no, the whole world- to see. 

“Good morning,” she begins. “I’m sure we’ve all seen the videos circulating around Youtube for the past several years depicting Spider-man stopping busses with his bare hands, leaping off of skyscrapers, and fighting crime. The most recent video of him shows him committing one.” She turns to the judge. “Personally, Your Honor, I don’t think there’s much of a case here. In Quentin Beck’s last moments, he managed to record Spider-man sending drones to murder innocent people. How can we not condemn him when a courageous individual spent his dying moments giving us the evidence required to avenge him?”

Knight goes to sit back down. “Thank you.”

The judge looks to O’hara, who stands straight and moves to the center of the room. 

“When you look at the defendant,” he begins. “What do you see? Well, I see a seventeen-year-old boy from Queens. Orphaned, gifted in science and engineering, Tony Stark’s protégée. I see a child who has been abused, prematurely condemned, and nearly killed by those who only take accusations at face value. What I plan on proving to you today is that things are not what they seem, and that my client is innocent of all charges. Thank you.”

The attorney sits back down next to Peter. 

“The prosecution may call its first witness.”

“The People call Mr. Brad Davis.”

Peter’s stomach sinks and he slumps in his chair. Of course it’s Brad Davis. Why wouldn’t it be Brad Davis? When Brad walks towards the front, he looks at Peter with a glare, a look of mistrust. He’s sworn in and the trial continues. 

“Brad,” Ms. Knight starts. “You go to school with Mr. Parker, correct?”

“Correct.”

“You were also there on your class trip to Venice, Prague, and London?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Can you describe how Peter Parker acted on this trip?”

Brad doesn’t hesitate. “Sketchy.”

“How so,” Ms. Knight asks. 

“He kept disappearing,” he says. “Conveniently, every time he disappeared there was an attack.”

“Did he disappear before each attack, or during?”

“Before,” Brad says. 

“What was his demeanor like when he was around?”

“Tense. Uh... nervous, maybe.”

“He was tense and nervous,” Knight begins, “and he also ‘conveniently’ disappeared just before each attack. Would I be right in saying that in the time he disappeared, he would have had time to orchestrate each attack before they happened?”

“Objection,” O’Hara shouts. “Speculation.”

Judge Simpson looks at Ms. Knight. “Sustained.”

Knight puts up her hands in surrender. “No further questions.”

“Does the defense have any questions for the witness?”

“No, your Honor,” O’hara replies. 

“The witness is excused. Does the prosecution have any other witnesses?”

“Just one,” Knight says. “Mr. Quentin Beck.”

Peter’s eyebrows raise and he feels his heart jump into his throat as murmurs are heard throughout the courtroom. 

“What are you getting at, Ms. Knight?”

“Beck recorded everything we need to make a solid case,” Knight says. “His testimony is the video that was aired. Therefore I believe I can show his witness testimony before the court.”

The judge looks at the woman over her glasses. “I’ll allow it. Play the video.”

Peter is relieved. Beck is dead. Beck is dead. Now all he has to do is control his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

As Knight is setting up the video, Mr. O’hara places a hand on Peter’s back. “You alright,” he whispers into his ear. 

Peter nods, though he’s really not so sure. 

The video plays. It’s nothing Peter hasn’t seen before. In fact, he’s watched it more than forty times already, trying to replay what really happened and figure out when Beck possibly had the time to make the video. He can’t find any mistakes in the graphics or CGI. It looks so real, Peter starts to have trouble believing his own innocence after thirty replays. 

The video finishes playing, the last frame suspended on his face, his yearbook photo. Peter can feel all eyes in the courtroom looking at him as Ms. Knight sits back down.

“I believe that speaks for itself,” she says. 

“The defense may call its first witness.”

O’hara stands. “The defense calls Miss Michelle Jones.”

Peter watches MJ as she stands and comes forward. She’d been sitting between her parents, who give him nods of reassurance when he looks at them. MJ smiles as she walks past him. She’s sworn in and sits at the witness stand. 

“Hi, Michelle,” O’hara says. She greets him back. “I’m just going to cut right to the point. It was you who helped Spider-man figure out Quentin Beck’s plan, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe to me how this all came about?”

“During one of the attacks,” MJ begins. “I found a piece of machinery had been knocked off the fire monster. I brought it to Peter and we found from there that the elementals were projections. Illusions. We found that Beck was behind the whole thing.”

O’hara walks back to where Peter sits and grabs the piece of projector from his bag. 

“Is this the piece of machinery you found?”

“Yes.”

“Can you show me what it did to make you believe that Beck was behind the attacks?”

He hands the projector to MJ and she presses a button on the side, making the projector play the same clip it played when they were in Europe. There are audible gasps from the people in the courtroom as they see Mysterio battling the elemental in the exact way they’d seen on TV reports. When the clip ends, MJ hands the item back to O’hara. 

“Your Honor, I would like to mark this as the defense’s exhibit number one and ask that they be admitted into evidence.”

“Does the prosecution have any objection?”

Knight purses her lips. “No, Your Honor.”

“The projector will be entered as the defense’s exhibit number one.”

“No further questions,” O’hara says, backing away. 

“Does the prosecution have any questions for the witness?”

“I do, in fact,” Knight says, standing and smoothing out her pencil skirt. “Miss Jones, what is your relationship to Mr. Parker?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” MJ says confidently, staring the woman in the eyes as if daring her to test her. 

“You would be willing to go to great lengths for the people you love, correct?”

“Objection,” O’hara scoffs. “Relevance.”

“Overruled,” Judge Simpson says. “Go ahead, Ms. Knight.”

Knight smiles. “I’ll rephrase this. Do you really believe your boyfriend is innocent? Or are you just protecting him?”

MJ grinds her teeth. “I believe he’s innocent,” she says. “I know he’s innocent. You want to know what else I believe? It’s that this is an unfair trial because the public had already condemned him before today. What ever happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

Knight’s smile grows ever wider. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Alright,” Judge Simpson says. “The witness is excused. Court is adjourned for today. We will resume tomorrow at ten AM.”

She taps her gavel and people begin to stand and file out of the room. MJ comes towards him and he hugs her tightly. 

“You did good,” Peter whispers into her ear. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” she whispers back. 

Peter smiles. “I love you too. So much.”


	10. The Trial: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you find mistakes keep them to yourself i’ve edited this like 3 times and somehow there’s always mistakes i miss lmao

“The defense would like to call Mr. Harold Hogan.”

Peter furrows his brow. Harold? He’ll definitely be using that one against him in the future. Happy is sworn in and sits down at the witness stand, giving Peter a reassuring nod. 

“Mr. Hogan,” O’hara begins. “Can you describe to me what caused you to go to Europe?”

“I received a call from an unknown number,” Happy begins. “It was Peter. He was using the phone of some stranger to contact me. He asked me to come pick him up from somewhere in the Netherlands.”

“What state was Mr. Parker in when you found him?”

“Badly inured,” Happy says, sparing a sad glance towards Peter. “Scared. Didn’t trust that I was really me, so he made me tell him something only I would know.”

“What happened to him,” O’hara asks.

“Beck screwed with him. Used his army of projectors to make him see stuff. He didn’t tell me what. Then Beck proceeded to throw him in front of a train.”

“No further questions,” O’hara says, walking away. 

Happy is excused from the stand and Fury is called up and sworn in. 

“Director Fury,” says O’hara. “Tell me about Europe.”

Fury explains how he found Peter in Venice, how he rearranged their trip to make him and his class end up in Prague and London, and how they called him in before each attack which is why he ‘conveniently’ disappeared. He tells them how he was deceived by Beck until Happy told him something was wrong, and he watched what went down in London and the video is  not correct. 

“No further questions, Your Honor,” O’hara says. 

Knight walks up to the stand with a sort of sly smile on her face that makes Peter’s stomach do a flip. He has a bad feeling about what’s about to happen. 

“Director,” the woman begins. “I have sources that say there was an incident when Mr. Parker’s class was on their way to Prague. Can you tell me anything about that?”

Fury is silent then, glaring at the woman. 

“Please remember that it’s considered a crime to lie under oath,” Knight says. 

Fury shakes his head in exasperation before speaking. 

“I’d given Mr. Parker the EDITH glasses that Tony Stark left for him,” he begins. “They were what Beck used to control the drones after he tricked Parker into giving them to him.”

“And about the bus ride?”

Peter can see Fury grinding his teeth. “He accidentally called a missile to attack his bus.” Peter puts his head in his hands, feeling tension rise in the courtroom. “He managed to stop it before it made impact, though.”

“Thank you for being honest, Director,” Knight says in a tone that’s too sweet for Peter’s liking. The woman turns to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, a child can’t be trusted with power such that Peter Parker has. He needs to be kept away from civilization, as he’s proven himself to be dangerous.” She turns to the judge. “No further questions.”

“The witness is excused,” Judge Simpson says. “I’d like to call a brief recess. Court will resume in fifteen minutes.”

People begin to stand and file out of the room, but Peter stays frozen in place, staring down at his lap. He feels O’hara rest a hand on his back. 

“Peter,” the man says. “Let’s go talk about what to do next, okay?”

The boy shakes his head. “It’s not going to work.”

May comes up to the table. “Honey, you can’t give up.”

Peter stifles a sob and stands, following them out of the courtroom. Fury is standing in the office they’ve been assigned to, arms crossed. 

“I don’t know who leaked that information, but I intend to find out,” says the director, pacing the length of the room. 

“I think I know what needs to happen,” O’hara says. He looks at Peter. “If you want to win this, you might need to testify.”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “I- I don’t know...”

“You don’t have to by any means,” says the attorney. “But if you did, it would help your case a lot.”

Peter sits down and buries his face in his hands once again. He’d really rather not be put through the ringer. Hasn’t he been through enough? Plus, what’s he going to say that will change everyone’s minds about him?

Regardless, the boy huffs a deep breath and looks up. 

“I’ll do it,” he decides. “I’ll testify.”

-

“Mr. Parker,” O’hara says. Peter’s hands sweat and he shakes where he sits on the witness stand. “Explain to me in your words what happened in Europe.”

“Well... I didn’t plan to have to fight any monsters while I was there,” he begins. “I didn’t even pack my suit. I just wanted to go on a vacation.”

“What changed that?”

“I went into my hotel room and Nick Fury was there,” he says. “I went with him and he explained that Quentin Beck was from an alternate universe and he was here to warn us about the elementals. He knew exactly when and where they would attack and needed my help to get rid of them.”

“Did you accept this?”

“No, I refused, but Director Fury can be... Persuasive. So could Beck.” Peter pauses. “Fury gave me the EDITH glasses and after fighting the elemental in Prague I thought that the best thing to do would be to give Beck the glasses.”

“Why did you think this?”

Peter scoffs. “You heard what I almost did with the missile. After that I didn’t think I was responsible enough to have them. I thought that Tony would want me to give them to someone... better, I guess.”

“Tell me about what happened in Berlin,” O’hara asks. “After you figured out what Beck was doing.”

The boy hesitates. “I went to what I thought was the EuroPol headquarters. Turned out to be an abandoned building that Beck made to look like the headquarters. I talked to who I thought was Nick Fury, but it ended up being Beck tricking me with his projectors. I told him who else knew what he was planning, and then he took down the illusion and...” Peter trails off. 

“And what?”

He gulps and continues. “He made me... see some stuff.”

“Like what?” O’hara stares at him intently. “Peter, if you don’t tell the whole story, I won’t be able to help you.”

Peter looks around the courtroom, to the judge, to the jury, and back to his attorney. 

“Like... Iron Man... Tony, coming out of the ground and attacking me,” he says, looking down. “Like my girlfriend, falling off the Eiffel Tower.”

He looks back up and sees MJ, staring at him with horror on her face. The room is silent until O’hara speaks again. 

“What happened after that?”

“He threw me in front of a train,” Peter says. “I didn’t even know we were near the tracks.”

He goes on to describe what else happened, all the way to the end. 

“Did you kill Quentin Beck,” O’hara asks. 

Peter swallows. “Not-Not technically.”

“How so?”

“He was trying to shoot me,” Peter says. “But I dodged it, and the bullet ricocheted off the side of the bridge and hit him instead.”

“Thank you, Peter,” O’hara says. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Does the prosecution have any questions for the defendant?”

“Yes,” Knight says, approaching the witness stand. She smiles. “Hi, Peter.”

“Hello, ma’am.”

“If everything you said is true,” she begins. “Why is there video evidence of you killing Quentin Beck in cold blood, and controlling the drones?”

Peter splutters for a second. “His weapon was illusions,” he stutters. “It’s fake. He faked the video.”

“Several experts have analyzed the footage, and they all say it’s real.”

“He had complicated technology. He was smart.”

“Unless it can be proven that the footage is fake,” Knight says. “We have no reason to believe your story.”

“But-“

The doors to the courtroom burst open with a bang, making Peter jump in his seat. He looks up to the door and his heart skips a beat. Whether in fear or relief, he’s not sure. 

The king of Wakanda, Princess Shuri, and the Dora Milaje, Okoye, have just entered the building. 


	11. The Verdict

T’Challa, Shuri, and Okoye stride into the room with their heads held high. All eyes are on them, and Peter stares in confusion, looking from his lawyer to Happy to Nick Fury. 

“What’s the meaning of this,” Judge Simpson asks. “You can’t just barge in here and-“

“I have evidence that greatly affects this case,” T’Challa says. “You should listen, unless you want to wrongfully condemn a man for a crime he did not commit.”

The judge raises her eyebrows. “Oh? And what would this evidence be?”

Knight stands up. “Your Honor, with all due respect, this can’t be allowed. There are processes that evidence has to go through before being presented-“

“I’ll allow it,” Simpson says. “Go on, King T’Challa.”

Shuri walks forward and stands in the middle of the courtroom, holding her hand flat with her palm up. She taps on her kimoyo beads until a hologram comes up in front of her face. 

“I’ve analyzed the video myself, since we have far superior technology in Wakanda that won’t be so readily deceived,” she says cockily. She touches the hologram and the video plays. “This is what you all saw. This,” she continues, “is what you get when you get rid of all the editing.”

A grainy video comes on the screen, featuring Beck standing in front of Peter, army of drones at his side. Beck yells. 

_“Fire all the drones, now!”_

Peter is then dodging bullets, all the while destroying the drones that are assaulting him.

The tape glitches and cuts to Peter conversing with a blank space of floor. In the original video, Beck would have been right where Peter was speaking to. 

In this version of the video, a different Quentin Beck is stealthily approaching Peter from behind, gun in hand. Just as the gun goes off, Peter catches the man’s hand, swinging it away from his head. The bullet shoots off a beam of the bridge, and back into Beck. 

_“You can’t trick me anymore,”_ Peter says in the video in a broken voice. 

He lets Mysterio fall to the ground and swipes the glasses from him. His last words are barely audible. 

_“People need something to believe... And nowadays... They’ll believe anything.”_

Peter’s voice rings out not long after. 

_“EDITH! Turn off the drones! Do it, execute them all!”_

The video ends with a visual of all of the drones shutting down and the courtroom is rendered silent. Peter stares at the screen, chest still tight. Just watching the video, he feels like he’s relived the whole thing. He can feel his heart race and phantom wounds that have long since healed. His trance is broken by the judge’s voice. 

“Huh,” she says. “Does the prosecution have anything further to say?”

Knight looks at her feet, then back up, lips pursed in some mix of annoyance, frustration, and defeat. “No, Your Honor.”

“Does the defense have any more witnesses?”

O’hara shrugs. “I feel like this... wraps things up.”

“Great,” says Judge Simpson. “Let’s proceed.”

Jury instructions and final arguments are presented, and the jury is excused to come to a verdict. T’Challa, Shuri, and Okoye start towards Peter and the boy stands, holding out his hand, and the king takes it. 

“Thank you,” Peter says. 

“It’s no problem,” Shuri interjects with a smile. “It’s always my job to help broken white boys.”

Peter chuckles and T’Challa rolls his eyes. 

“When I got the call from Ms. Stark, I was hesitant to get involved with the politics,” T’Challa says. “But when I heard how poorly you were being treated by your own government, I had to intervene. Especially since your government, your world, is indebted to you already.”

Peter furrows his brows. “Indebted?”

“You helped keep the gauntlet away from Thanos, did you not?”

The boy looks at the floor sheepishly, then back up to the king. He’s about to speak when the jury comes back in and prepares to give their verdict. 

“Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?”

“Yes. The jury finds the defendant...”

Peter’s ears begin to ring. He can feel sweat collecting on his brow and on the palms of his hands. The thumping of his own heart and the ringing in his ears drown out the rest of the verdict. Peter feels O’hara pat his shoulder and looks over to see the man smiling at him. Suddenly his arms are full of MJ, who is clinging onto him and crying. May is there in an instant, crying as well.

Knight sits down. Happy has a smile on his face and his arm around May. Flash and Betty are patting his back and Ned is crying. 

Peter turns around to see none other than Pepper Stark-Potts standing by the door of the courtroom, smiling at him. 

“The jury finds the defendant... not guilty.”

All sound floods back into Peter’s ears at once and he flinches, arms tightening around MJ. The words take a few seconds to register in his brain. 

Not guilty. 

Not guilty. 

Not going back to the Raft. 

Not going to be beaten anymore. 

Not going to have to listen to the beeping. 

Not guilty. 

It’s in that moment that it clicks, and he knows he’s been hugging MJ too long already, but he still clings to her even tighter now. Peter feels the emotion welling up within him, starting at his gut and traveling up his chest, through his throat, and out his mouth. 

It’s relief. 

Peter sobs. 

He lets out a loud sob and lets tears fall into his girlfriend’s hair. He can feel her tears staining his dress shirt and he can feel May wrapping her arms around both of them, kissing the top of his head. It’s chaos, the room breaking out in cheers, the people glad to know that their friendly neighborhood Spider-man is innocent. 

Eventually Peter regains control of his legs, tears still falling from his cheeks as they walk out of the courthouse, together, with the king of Wakanda bringing up the rear. Once outside, Peter remembers that the trial was live-streamed when he hears the roaring cheers of those crowded outside. He smiles, watching Happy clear a path through the crowd. Peter looks to his left and sees a sign being held by one of the people. 

It reads, ‘We Believe In Spider-man’. 

Peter’s smile grows impossibly wider. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. so i honestly don’t know how i feel about this chapter, and this whole work in general at this point, but there will be one more chapter- the epilogue, or my own “post credits scene” of sorts.  
> thank you for the support of those who left comments and kudos. they’re what motivate me to write and keep me from thinking that i’m a bad writer.  
> regardless, thank you all so much. it’s insane to me how i only have one chapter left to post. i’m glad that my mind allowed me to create this resolution to the story, especially since we may never truly get one after the sony/disney divorce.  
> let me know what you guys think, if i need to work on grammar or word choice or my use of literary devices or whatever (especially since i keep editing chapters over and over again but each time i find so many mistakes no matter how much i edit lmao).  
> thank you so much for your support!!


	12. Mid-Credits Scene

THREE MONTHS LATER

It‘s a snowy day in Queens, one of those days where Peter is exceptionally grateful for the heater in his suit. The sun has already set on this Christmas Eve, though it’s only half past five in the afternoon. Peter makes his way home, early, considering most crime happens after dark, because May is making dinner tonight. Her cooking has gotten exceptionally better, what with Laura Barton’s teaching, of course. 

Peter climbs in his bedroom window of their new apartment (one with an address that hasn’t been publicized (at least not yet)) and takes off his suit. 

“May? I’m home!”

The apartment smells amazing as Peter changes his clothes and walks into the living room. May is in the kitchen, taking a roast out of the oven when she looks back at him and smiles. 

“I think I nailed this one,” she says. 

Peter chuckles. “I’m sure you did. We’re still going to the tower tomorrow, right?”

May nods, and Peter’s excitement grows. After the battle at the Compound, destroying the building, the Avengers needed a new headquarters. They bought back the old Avengers Tower in Manhattan, out of sentimentality. Now, Peter is going to join the other Avengers in Christmas dinner tomorrow afternoon, along with May and MJ. 

Peter sets the table as May finishes cooking. He sees his fingers and wrists, no longer boney, and reflects on the last several weeks. He’s gained back the weight he lost in the Raft rather quickly, what with May’s newfound ability to cook. The scars of the gunshot wounds from the attempt on his life have faded by now, and he almost feels like the same old Peter Parker. 

Almost. He’d resumed school at Midtown Tech and suddenly everyone either wanted to be his friend, or was afraid of him, or still believed he was guilty. The press hounded the front of the building, trying to catch him going in or out. He and May decided it would be best for him to finish high school online. Now he’s nearly finished with his senior year already, even though it’s only December. 

Not only is it hard with everyone knowing he‘s Spider-man, but by now most of the country knows at least some form of the story of what he’d been through at the Raft. Thaddeus Ross’ face is plastered all over magazines and a video of him being detained in public trended on Youtube for almost a week before the world started to move onto bigger and better things. As much as Peter wants to go visit him in prison, gain some form of closure from this whole ordeal, May isn’t having any of it, “especially not so soon.” Ross is gone, and he won’t hurt another enhanced person again, and that’s all Peter cares about. 

He and May sit down at the table and dig in. In addition to the roast, there’s corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cooked squash. Peter piles his plate high with food and practically inhales his first serving. He tells May about his patrol using animated hand gestures, then tends to the dishes while she gets a glass of wine. When Peter is done with the dishes, he gets the pie he made the night before out of the refrigerator. 

May exclaims when she takes a bite. “You certainly don’t get your baking skills from me. This is exactly like Ben used to make when you were little.”

Peter smiles. “I found the recipe in one of those old cooking books you keep.”

Once they’re done with dessert, Peter and May sit on the couch and watch the Polar Express while drinking hot chocolate with peppermint sticks. In this moment, Peter is incomparably grateful that he’s not in prison. 

The next morning, Peter wakes up at the crack of dawn and attempts to wait in bed, knowing that May would rather sleep in on her day off, but he absolutely can’t. Much like when he was little, the excitement becomes too much for him and he goes out to the living room. He observes the gifts under the tree- not too bountiful, but more so than the year prior. After a few minutes, he decides to start making breakfast so May can eat as soon as she wakes up. 

He makes bacon and scrambled eggs and toast with blueberry jam, and May comes down the hall just as he’s setting everything up on the table. 

“What’s this, honey?”

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” Peter explains. 

She grins at him and kisses his forehead, sitting down and digging in. 

When they’re done with breakfast, they open the gifts they gave each other. Peter gets a new lego set, this one nearly five thousand pieces, a new pair of shoes, and a new wallet- one that’s thinner and can be more easily slid into the pocket of his suit. He gives May a necklace with matching earrings, an Italian cook book, and a framed picture of her, Ben, Richard, Mary, and Peter, when he was just a toddler. 

“Where did you get this picture,” May asks.

“I, uh... I’ve had it for a while. I photocopied it so you could have one and I could have one.” He pulls out the wallet she got him. “I think I’ll make another small one for this.”

May smiles, but her eyes are watery. “You don’t remember when this picture was taken, do you?” Peter shakes his head. “It was on your third birthday. Right after that we had cake, and that’s when you had your very first allergic reaction to coconut.”

Peter snickers. “I remember having another allergic reaction when I was six, right after I moved in with you and Ben.” He trails off for a second. “I haven’t had coconut since the spider bite. I wonder if I’m still allergic.”

“Let’s not test it out any time soon,” May replies. 

After they clean up the ripped wrapping paper, they get ready and head to the tower, picking up MJ on the way. Clint is the first to greet them at the door, pulling Peter into a hug. 

“Glad to see you,” the man says. “You look great. The kids have been dying to see you.”

Clint slings an arm around Peter’s shoulders and brings them into the common room where everyone is. Literally everyone is there- Ant-Man, Wanda, Bucky Barnes, Fury- everyone. When they walk in, Cooper and Lila approach them. 

“Hey, man,” Peter says to Cooper, shaking his hand, then greeting Lila, who is all over MJ talking about how much she’s missed her. 

There’s a table of snacks on the far wall of the common room, and a gigantic Christmas tree sitting in the middle of the room. People eat and talk and they get to decorating the tree. 

Fury is climbing a ladder to reach some of the upper branches and Peter is watching when Pepper approaches him. 

“How’re you holding up,” she asks. 

Peter smiles. “Great. Gained back all that weight, got situated with online classes... Everything’s good.”

Pepper looks at him with a soft glare. “That’s not what I mean. You never got to deal with what happened in Europe, let alone being alienated by society and imprisoned in the Raft for all those months.” She hands him a business card. “This is the number for the therapist Tony was seeing. He knows how to deal with traumatized superheroes.”

Peter knew Tony had been seeing a therapist, that he had been on and off ever since New York. He just never thought he’d get to that point. 

Regardless, he took the card. “Thanks, Pepper. It means a lot that you’re looking out for-“

Suddenly, there’s a shout coming from the direction of the tree and all eyes are on Nick Fury, who’s tripping and falling off the ladder. Too quickly for anyone to react, the man hits the ground and suddenly he’s not Nick Fury anymore, a green alien laying on the ground in his place. 

There’s a collective gasp from everyone in the room, and Peter can hear several people exclaiming at once. 

“What the fu-!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was more of a goofy/nice/fluffy chapter, but i’ve decided to add a 13th chapter as the post credits scene! stay tuned ;)


	13. Post-Credits Scene

Peter’s footsteps echo in the quiet hallway, along with the footsteps of Clint, Happy, and two guards. The three follow the guards down a series of winding hallways until they come to a certain block of cells: Block F. 

One of the guards uses his large ring of keys to open the door and they all step through. There are a few seconds more of silence, before the hallway erupts in shouts. 

Peter holds his head up, keeping his gaze fixed in front of him as he is escorted down the hallway, wedged between Clint and Happy. In this block of the prison, Peter can recognize many faces. The guards from the Raft are all there, not a single one missing. He sees the ones who stole his clothes, the one who threw him on the floor of that shower, the ones who seemed to have the most joyous time beating him. They shout profanities at him and throw things at the windows on the doors of their cells as he walks by. Some of them look to have gone mad. 

The boy never falters as he strides down the hallway, following the guards to the end of it. When they reach the end of the corridor they find a door that is labeled “Solitary Confinement: Block F”. 

Any sound from the previous hallway is blocked out once they step into the next hallway, closing the door behind them. They walk down to the end of the hallway, and the sound of footsteps is drowned out in Peter’s mind by his own thumping heart. 

Getting May to agree to let him come here had proven hard. He practically had to write a whole thesis about why it isn’t such an awful idea. Eventually she realized that it isn’t so bad, especially since it’s been nearly half a year since Peter was released from the Raft. 

Now, as he is approaching the cell at the end of the hallway, Peter isn’t so sure this is a good idea, after all. Regardless, he’s in too deep now, so there’s no turning back. 

One of the guards unlocks the door, and Clint places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. The boy takes a deep breath and goes inside, Happy and Clint right behind him. 

Inside, Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross is sitting on a hard-looking bed, elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the wall ahead of him. His hair is longer now and he looks to not have shaved in weeks. He definitely doesn’t look deserving of his old military nickname, now. He doesn’t even seem to realize that anyone has entered his cell, and Peter is just about to turn around and leave when Ross finally acknowledges him. 

“Parker,” he says, voice low. “I knew you’d come eventually. I’m sure you enjoy being on the other side of things now.”

Peter doesn’t say anything, just leans on the wall while Happy and Clint take defensive positions, obviously puffing out their chests to look more intimidating. 

“Does it make you feel better,” Ross asks. “Seeing how the tables have turned?”

“Unlike you,” Peter begins. “It doesn’t make me happy to see a person locked up in a cage.”

Ross laughs, a single insane cackle. “Do you really expect me to believe that this gives you no joy, none at all? Because let me tell you,” he says, poised in a position to stand up. “Watching you break gave me more joy than you’ll ever know. Learning what makes you tick, what would’ve driven you absolutely bonkers if I’d had just a little more time. Oh, but I’ll get my time. If not me, then someone else will get to have a go at you.”

“That’s enough,” Happy says, but Ross isn’t finished, and everyone in the room seems to realize that the man has gone absolutely mad. 

“Yes, someone else will get their hands on you. I have people everywhere, and guess what? You may have your Avengers, but they’re nothing compared to mine.”

The room is silent for a moment before Clint speaks. “Yours?”

Ross raises his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Oh? You don’t know?” He cackles again. “You think I pulled that many strings to get four months with Spider-man all because I wanted to drive him crazy? No. No, that’s not it. I needed his DNA. I needed to perform tests to find the best way to tame a filthy mutant like that.” He points at Peter at the word ‘that’, as if he’s a thing, not a human. he didn’t 

“Why,” Peter asks, and he can’t help how scared he sounds. “What did you do?”

The smile that emerges on Ross’ face is sickening, as are his words. “Why, I’ve made a team of Anti-Avengers. Just like the real thing, but men of my own, under my control, with my agenda. I’ve got a Spider-man, a Hulk, a-“

“That’s enough,” Happy shouts. The man grabs Peter’s shoulders and starts directing him towards the door. “Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy.”

“Just wait!” Ross’ voice echoes around the hallway. “They’ll come when you least expect it! Just you wait!”

As the door to Solitary Confinement closes, it cuts off Ross’ insane cackling with it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was really, really nervous to post this. there are a few allusions in this chapter to the incredible hulk movie, because i just rewatched it the other day and i was like ‘now wait just a minute... i can use this.’ i hope this isn’t bad, and i just hope that i’ve done an okay job of making ross slowly become more and more insane until, finally, in this chapter he just snaps.   
> thank you all so much for the love you’ve given this. i can’t promise a sequel because i just have a lot going on at the moment and i don’t want to write unless i’m completely immersed, and to be honest i’ve kind of lost interest in this. but if you subscribe to this or bookmark it or whatever (idk how this website works lmao) then i’ll post an update announcing a sequel, should there be one, and you’ll be notified.   
> i love you all and i’m so thankful for the awesome people who comment and interact with me on here. i hope you all have a wonderful day.  
> P.S. i’ve got something else in the works but i want to finish writing it before i post the first chapter so i know i won’t lose interest in the middle and leave it unfinished lmao

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think!! comments keep me motivated to write!


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